Chicago, 1989, Rogers Park neighborhood, around midnight. A guy on a bicycle rode past on a cross street and fired a single shot in my direction with a revolver from about 25 yards. Not really a near death experience, but the surprise dumped the adrenaline.

The bear was in Denali, Alaska. Bear came over a ridge line and ran full speed for about a quarter mile in a beeline toward me, then pulled up short about 200 yards away when a bus came around the corner. I got on the bus. Bear attacks in Denali are exceedingly rare (only one fatality ever, I think), but I couldn’t help but be pretty darned worried for a minute.

Car camping, mid-day, I went to rehang a 1400-yard steel target we’d shot down. Driving back, I observe a pickup with three tweakers in the bed pull past our campsite (to a spot hidden from my friends at the campsite) and dismount with rifles. They began approaching the campsite “tactically”. I radioed the situation to my friends, and raced toward the scene. Upon my arrival at a commanding overwatch position, they ran back to their truck and sped off. It was certainly more of a near death experience for them than me. Don’t try to rob professional hunting guides in the forest!